5 Times Frank Was Reminded Of Jamie Fraser
by letitbe1250
Summary: Set during the 20 year J/C separation. Whether it be finding a string of pearls, noticing an interesting scar, or hearing Claire tell a story... this is five times that Frank was reminded of the man who stole his wife's heart. No Frank/Claire romance. Still has a focus on the J/C love.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi hello hi!**

**This is my very first OL fic, so I hope you enjoy!**

**This first chapter is an idea that Claire accidentally reveals to a friend that she once got a wax in Paris, and the resulting conversation between her and Frank about it. **

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Chapter 1: What Claire Did For Love

Claire sipped her wine as Lucy went on and on about her latest marital problems. She had met Lucy at one of the university gatherings that she accompanied Frank to on occasion. Lucy was married to a professor who worked in the same building as Frank. Lucy, like Claire, was not interested in becoming friends with most of the wives in their husbands' circle. The two women bonded over wanting to be defined by who they were, not who their husbands were. Unlike Claire, Lucy was very vocal…about her marriage, other peoples' marriages, and well, everything.

Nevertheless, Lucy and her husband, Stephen, joined the Randalls for dinner every month – sometimes twice if they could find someone to watch Brianna. The whole foursome had become very close friends.

Dinner had long been eaten, and while Stephen and Frank went to the study to discuss classes, Claire and Lucy had retired to the sitting room for a drink and some gossip.

"I mean, I understand that he's busy. Mid-terms just happened and he has papers to grade by the dozens!" Lucy half-whispered, knowing that the husbands were only a room away and could walk in at any moment, "But for Christ's sake, we haven't made love in almost a month!"

Claire gave her friend a sympathetic smile. Lucy sighed and drank the rest of her wine in one gulp. Claire rose, grabbed the newly emptied glass and went to the bar cart in the corner of the room.

"You better bring that back to me with something stronger than wine in it, Claire Randall." Lucy joked and chuckled. Claire had already grabbed the whisky decanter and was removing the top.

Lucy continued, "Maybe I'm reading too much into it…it is a busy time of year for professors." Lucy looked over and directed her next question to Claire's back, "Has Frank been distant lately as well?"

Claire finished pouring the glasses and_ almost_ faltered at Lucy's questioning. The truth was, after Frank had called her out for thinking of Jamie when they made love a few months ago, they had barely touched each other. A quick peck on the lips here or there when they were in public and needed to keep up appearances. Luckily, she had become accustomed to fielding personal questions about her marriage.

"I made yours a double." Claire said as she steeled her face and turned around to face her friend. She gave her a smirk and handed her the glass. She took her seat on the lounge once again.

Lucy, not missing the fact that Claire had avoided her question, chuckled and said, "I consider you to be one of my best friends but sometimes I forget how different we are! I am always telling everyone all of my business." Lucy laughed in a self-deprecating tone and continued, "But you, Claire Randall, are quite a mystery. You have a stone face, I can almost never tell what you are thinking or feeling."

Claire laughed casually, eyebrows raised. "I didn't use to be that way," she said as she looked to a spot on the wall, almost as if she was imagining a place far away.

She knew she had changed. When she returned, she came back with her heart in pieces. She had to hold in her feelings or she would never be able to stop them. Even now, she held her emotions deep inside her, no matter what they were. What was left of her heart was all for Brianna. Brianna, and for the memory of Jamie Fraser.

Before Lucy could continue with personal questions, Claire redirected the conversation back to her.

"Have you thought of trying something new, maybe? It is quite a busy time, perhaps he just needs some...encouragement?" Claire suggested honestly. Lucy perked up at the idea.

She took another quick peek towards the direction of the study, then leaned closer to Claire, "You know, I heard that Martha Haverford was trying to entice her Johnny in the bedroom after a long dry spell…and well," Lucy chuckled to herself and looked around once more before continuing.

"Well…I heard she decided to go and you know, uh, have herself made completely bare…_down there_!" Lucy motioned with her hand in the direction of her womanhood and then laughed wildly. Her eyes were wide and her jaw dropped in exaggerated shock. Claire, ever cautious of her own emotions these days, tried to suppress a laugh and instead rose her eyebrows and said, "Oh my…well that certainly does change things up."

Lucy laughed again and added, "I should say so!"

"And did it work in the way she hoped?" Claire asked curiously.

Lucy scoffed, "Well, it doesn't matter because I could never entertain the idea!" Claire laughed lightly.

"No?" Claire wondered aloud.

"Absolutely not!" Lucy looked shocked at the thought. "I mean, shaving my legs is one thing. But to do that, they use some kind of hot honey and rip it from your skin! I can't even imagine how much that must hurt."

Claire brought her glass to her lips, "It's not as bad as you'd think." She sipped her whisky. She had spoken without thinking, simply giving an honest response. She realized quickly her mistake when she saw Lucy's jaw drop out of the corner of her eye. She quickly took another drink, avoiding her friend's stare.

"Claire Randall!" Lucy exclaimed, "Don't tell me that you've…actually…" Claire met her eyes briefly, a look of embarrassment suddenly coming across her face. Lucy's mouth dropped even further open somehow.

"You have!" Lucy exclaimed, a mixture of disbelief and excitement in her voice.

Claire dropped her face into one of her hands, giving a small smile of shame and embarrassment. Lucy gasped and covered her mouth with a hand, clearly taken aback but also giddy at knowing such a thing about her friend who always kept everything so private.

Before she could ask one of the many questions that she had next, Frank and Stephen's voices were heard and were clearly about to walk into the room. Claire did her best to replace her face with a stoic one and set her glass down on the table and turned her head just as the men entered.

Lucy, to her credit, also did her best to hide her look of scandal.

Frank, finishing a conversation with Stephen, turned then to the ladies, "Starting your nightcaps without us, then, ladies?" He smiled at them. Before anyone could offer, Stephen spoke to the group, "I'm afraid a nightcap will have to wait until another time. I've got mountains of papers at home to attend to." Lucy gave a pointed look to Claire as if to say, "See?" Claire gave her a small smile of sympathy again.

After asking if the group would excuse him a moment, Stephen walked in the direction of the guest bathroom and Frank entered the living room and crossed over to tend to the fireplace.

Lucy, apparently driven to bravery from the whisky and wine, blurted out, "Frank, I need a male point of view."

Frank lifted his head from the fire and looked back towards Claire, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. When she shrugged a shoulder haphazardly, he turned his attention back to Lucy and tilted his head as if to say, "_Go on…_"

Claire looked at Lucy nervously. Lucy, on the other hand, sat up straighter and didn't look at her friend. Claire wasn't sure if it was on purpose or not but when she heard what Lucy said next, she knew that her friend had been avoiding her eyes on purpose.

"Do you think mixing things up in the bedroom is a good idea?"

Frank's face looked shocked but he quickly tightened his expression again. Claire began to drink more generously from her whisky.

"Mixing things up?" Frank asked, unsure where this was going.

Lucy, after finishing her drink once again, set the glass down and boldy added, "Yes. You know, like, for example, a woman making herself bare. On her _womanhood_." Claire, in the middle of finishing her drink, choked on her last sip of whisky. Frank almost choked, too, though he didn't know how as he had no drink. Once again, he turned to Claire.

Before he could utter a word, Lucy spoke again, "Oh, don't worry. Claire already told me that she's had it done it before." Lucy waved an arm carelessly in the direction of Claire. As this statement was revealed, Claire kept her head down but allowed her eyes to look up and meet Frank's. He stared at her in a mixture of shock, embarrassment, and confusion. At that moment, Stephen emerged back into the entryway with his and Lucy's coats.

"Thank you both for a lovely evening. Next month, you will come to ours and I'll even get Lucy to make her roast that you love so much." Stephen said with an oblivious smile. Lucy rose from her seat, now seeing the looks on Claire and Frank's faces and realizing that she might have been too forward in her conversation. She stumbled slightly over her words, "Y-yes. Thanks to you both, wonderful dinner as always, Claire."

Claire, thankful for the interruption, had torn her eyes from Frank's stare and risen to bid farewell to her guests. She grasped Lucy lightly on the outside of her arm and smiled as genuinely as she could muster, "Of course. It's always a pleasure."

Frank and Stephen shook hands as they all walked to the front door. Lucy gave Claire a look as if to say, "_I'm sorry, I can sense that I've caused trouble._" Claire simply shook her head lightly and smiled.

After closing the door behind them, Claire stood facing the door, her hand seemingly frozen on the doorknob for a moment. She closed her eyes briefly, preparing herself to have a conversation she did not want to have. She could feel Frank still standing behind her in the entryway. Finally, she released the handle and turned around quickly, walking directly past Frank and back into the living room. She promptly poured two whiskeys and handed one to Frank as he walked into the room.

He took the glass from her hands, "So, it's true then?" He turned to sit on the lounge. Claire paused to sip some liquid courage and then sat down into the armchair next to him.

She looked down at the glass in her hands and then back up at him, "Yes." After an awkward moment of silence she added, "It was a few years ago."

He nodded quickly and scoffed lightly under his breath, "Well I figured that. Can't recall you ever doing that for me, I think that's something I would remember."

He drank from his glass as well and then set it down on the table. He paused for a long time, running his hands over his face and then looking down at the floor, his arms resting against his knees.

"For him?" He said quietly, almost a whisper. He looked back up at her for a confirmation he didn't need. She swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded, once.

He kept his eyes on hers, "Say it."

Claire was taken aback, a line appeared between her brows but then she relaxed her face again. But she still didn't answer him. She didn't understand why he wanted her to say it, this was breaking their bargain.

Frank stood up abruptly and raised his voice, hovered directly above where she sat.

"Say it, Claire! Look at me and tell me how you went and defiled yourself, your body, your CUNT, for that…for him!" Claire looked up into his now red face and pressed her lips tightly together. Now she was pissed.

Keeping her voice as calm as possible, she kept eye contact with him, refusing to back down, "I will not speak to you if this is how you are going to speak to me."

Frank scoffed and turned around and began to pace the floor in front of the couch. "Why would you…how did they even do that back then?" He asked, the historian in him coming out for a moment.

"It was in France." She said, wanting to keep her answers as short and as uninformative as possible. Which kind of worked, Frank knew France was always ahead of the times. But by the time she answered, his mind had moved on to another question.

"Did he ask you to do that?" He turned back around to face her again. Frank didn't know which answer would be worse. To hear that this man had asked such a thing of her and she had done it for him without question was a thought that made Frank dizzy. But the other choice was that she had actually wanted to do something like that for another man, and that thought made his head spin as well.

Claire, still remaining as collected as she could, "He didn't ask me. I-I wanted to." She admitted.

In her mind, she ran through the possible questions that could come up next in this conversation, trying to decide when she should stop answering them.

Frank continued on pacing and talking, "So what I'm hearing is that Lucy wanted to know how to mix things up in the bedroom and you told her about how you went and did _that _to yourself to give your husband a little surprise." His voice snarled on the word _husband_.

He continued, "What? Were the two of you having a problem in the bedroom?" Frank's voice grew angrier by the word but he managed to add a smirk at the end.

Claire stood from the chair, shaking her head, "We're not doing this, Frank." She began to walk away but Frank began to shout.

"Now here we are! And we haven't touched each other in months and you seem to have no interest in mixing things up for us! What is it? WHY? Why were you willing to do something like that for **that** marriage but you seem not to care about the intimacy in ours?!"

Frank was practically spitting the words out at her. "HUH? What's the difference, Claire?!"

They stood on opposite sides of the couch now. Frank had paused his pacing and was standing in front of the cushions. She stood behind the back of the couch, looking over at him. Frank's words had stopped them both in their tracks. Her face, like always, was working hard not to give away her emotions. But tears were lining her eyes and her defiant chin trembled ever so slightly. She took a deep breath.

"You're upset. And angry." Claire began, making sure her voice was steady. "But you are asking me things that I cannot speak the answers to. And even if I could, you wouldn't want me to." She slowly turned around and walked away, up the stairs.

Frank stood there for a long time. She was right. He didn't want to know what the difference was between her marriage to him and her marriage to the highlander…but he felt as though he already did.


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter is one of my favorites (along with the last one).  
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**How did Claire come to the decision to give Mrs. Graham the pearls? How was Frank involved in that decision? What if Frank overheard Claire and Mrs. Graham talking about Jamie?**

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Chapter 2: No Use Crying Over Spilled Pearls

Mrs. Graham sighed deeply. It had been a stressful few weeks, with Mrs. Randall returning and her and her husband coming to stay with them. Never mind the stressful part of having Claire confide in her what had happened and being the only person she could talk to about it, but she also had more mouths to feed. She didn't mind, of course, she was very fond of Claire Randall. She was happy that Claire had decided to tell her husband everything last night. Claire had approached her in the kitchen this morning and simply said, "I told Frank." She mostly remained quiet after that, and Mrs. Graham did not think it best to ask just how much she had told him or how it went. The lass could tell her in her own time, if she wished. For now, she took advantage of having some time to relax in the study.

Claire peeked her head into the study and after seeing Mrs. Graham was alone, stepped cautiously into the room. Mrs. Graham's eyes were closed delicately, but she knew she was not asleep. Claire stepped forward into the room, clearing her throat gently.

Mrs. Graham opened her eyes, "Och, hello dear." She straightened in her seat and gestured with one hand to the armchair next to her. Claire gave a small smile and sat down. Mrs. Graham remembered Claire Randall's smile.

It was quite a lovely smile. It often started with her lips slowly spreading to the sides and ended with all of her teeth on display. Her cheeks rose as she smiled, creating little dimples just below her eyes. The eyes themselves would sparkle as she smiled, little golden flecks shining brightly around her black pupils. Yes, that is how Mrs. Randall used to smile. Upon her return, her smile had changed. Now her smile was a simple one, just her two lips raising slightly at the corners. No teeth, no cheeky dimples, no golden flecks. Mrs. Graham had only seen a slight fleck of color in her eyes once since she had returned. When she told her about her fellow, Jamie.

"How are ye, deary?" Mrs. Graham asked. Claire spent a brief amount of time explaining her conversation with Frank and their agreement. Mrs. Graham stayed quiet for the most part, only offering small words of comfort when she felt it was needed. Claire looked as though she had more to say but was hesitating.

"Is there something I can do for ye, Mrs. Randall?" Mrs. Graham asked.

Claire emitted another small smile, thankful for Mrs. Graham's insightful nature and looked down at her hands. Mrs. Graham, for the first time, noticed that she had something clutched in her hands. Claire took a deep breath and then spoke.

"Well, I was hoping you would do me the favor of accepting a gift." Claire reached her hand out and opened her fist, revealing a small velvet jewelry bag. Mrs. Graham paused for a moment, but then took the offering into her own hands.

Mrs. Graham opened the top of the bag delicately and poured the contents into her hand. A magnificent string of Scottish pearls fell into her waiting palm. She gasped slightly and looked back up to meet Claire's eyes.

"Oh my!" She exclaimed in surprise. She looked back down at the pearls in her hand and then returned to look at Claire again. "They are so-they're beautiful…why are ye giving them to me?" She stumbled out, unable to believe what was happening.

_Why?_ That question brought Claire back to earlier that afternoon…

Claire sat on the bed, facing the wall, unable to watch as Frank gathered her clothes from the past so he could get rid of them. She didn't ask questions but she had seen him preparing a can outside to burn them. Among the rustling of fabric, she heard a significant **_thunk_** as something hit the floor. Instinctively, she turned towards the sound. She saw it...the source of the dropped item. Before she realized, she was off the bed and across the room, bending to pick up the small bag from the floor. The second she turned and saw it on the floor, she knew exactly what it was. _Jamie's mother's pearls._ She scooped the bag into her hands and held it to her chest. In the midst of her grief, she had forgotten she still had them. Tucked away in the pockets of her skirts, they had fallen as Frank gathered the offending outfit into his arms. Frank, who had barely had time to register what had fallen by the time Claire had rushed over and picked it up, now looked at her.

"What's that?" Frank asked.

Claire paused, not able to look at him just yet. She stared down at the bag and moved her fingers back and forth so she could feel the pearls roll around inside the bag. She didn't know what to say.

Frank could see her clutching the bag. Whatever it was, it meant a great deal to her. He set down his armful of clothing and stepped towards her. He reached out and cautiously took the bag from her hands. To his great surprise, she did not resist. He took the bag and opened it. After peeking a look inside, he reached a finger in and lifted part of the necklace up out of the bag. He glanced a look at Claire whose eyes were glued to the pearls. He let them fall back into the bag to join the rest.

Claire kept her eyes on the bag in his hands, clearly picturing the pearls that lay inside.

Frank sighed, "Claire, darling. We can't keep them. We are starting new." He spoke slowly as he looked to her, gauging whether she would fight against it or agree. She didn't take her eyes off the bag. She twisted her hands around each other, the fingers stroking her hands in a nervous tick.

It was a habit she had always had, Frank knew that. He didn't know if it had something to do with being a nurse or not, but she had always played her hands when she was nervous, or scared, or deep in thought. She used to fiddle with her gold band when she did it. As he looked to her hands now, the fingers of her left hand were repeatedly stroking the silver ring on her right, almost as if to make sure it was still there.

Frank, slightly irritated by this but trying not to be, took a deep breath before tying the bag back up and putting it in his pocket. He turned to pick the clothes back up into his arms.

"What are you going to do with them?" She finally spoke. She posed the question in such a quiet voice, he almost didn't hear her. He turned back to look at her, an eyebrow raised. She continued, "I mean, you can't burn them."

He nodded slightly and paused. He constantly felt like he was walking on eggshells around his wife now. "I can get good money for these in the city, I imagine. Might very well pay for our trip to Boston." He added, trying to make it sound like a positive thing.

Claire looked up at him, meeting his eyes with hers. They were wide and dark, she looked frightened. She could not think of anything worse than letting those pearls _(her pearls, Jamie's pearls, _**_their_**_ pearls…), _wind up in the hands of a stranger. She also didn't know what to say to Frank because there was no way he would let her keep them. Her mouth opened and closed several times, unable to come up with a solution. After a moment of her silence, Frank finished gathering the things and turned towards the door.

"Wait!" Claire finally found words and cried out to Frank's back just as he reached the handle. He stopped abruptly at the distressed sound of her voice and let his hand fall down but didn't turn around.

Claire spoke again, in a smaller voice this time, "You can't-you can't sell them." He heard her voice choke slightly and knew she was on the verge of crying. He sighed, still facing the door.

"Did _he_ give them to you?" He asked quietly and they both knew his meaning. If Jamie had given them to her, she could not keep them. His question was answered when he heard nothing but silence behind him.

Claire did speak after a moment, but did not answer his question. She didn't need to, they both knew the answer.

"I'll-I'll give them to Mrs. Graham. She's been so kind to me, to us. She should have them."

Frank turned slightly, looking over his shoulder at her. She had, in fact, started to cry. He could see the remnants of a few tears on her face and the liquid still pooled in her eyes. But she made eye contact with him. A plea that he would accept her compromise.

"Fine." Frank said simply and pulled the bag from his pocket and handed it to her. She grabbed it and instantly clutched it to her chest. Her breath calmed and her face seemed to relax just by holding them in her hands.

"She's in the study." Frank added, clearly implying that he expected her to do it now. She looked down at the precious parcel in her hands and then raised her eyes back up to him. She nodded slightly and walked slowly from the room, still clutching the pearls to her chest.

Frank set down the clothes on the chair and breathed in and out to try and calm down. She was trying, he wanted to believe that this would all be worth it. He sat down and poured himself a drink. After about five minutes of relief, a thought struck his mind: _What if she didn't do it? What if she went down there and hid the pearls, so that she could go back and get them later?_ Without allowing even a second for further thinking on the matter, he rushed from the room, down the stairs, and to the door of the study. It was cracked slightly and he hesitated for only a moment before placing his face where he could see and hear his wife and Mrs. Graham just a few feet away.

"They are so-they're beautiful…why are ye giving them to me?" He heard Mrs. Graham stumbling through a gasp.

He could see Claire's face, as she was sitting towards the door where he hid. She gave a microscopic shrug before answering. "I can't…keep them." She looked pointedly at Mrs. Graham. Mrs. Graham nodded in understanding. Claire had obviously told her a little about their agreement.

"I wouldn't be able to bear knowing that a stranger had them. You've been such a good friend to me, and I would really like you to have them." Claire laid a gentle hand on one of Mrs. Graham's wrists. Mrs. Graham looked quite taken aback.

"Och, lass, I couldna possibly–" Mrs. Graham started to put them back into the bag but Claire reached out her hand to stop her movements.

"_Please_," Claire's voice sounded strained and emotional, "I want you to have them. I need…I _need_ you to have them. I need to be able to know where they are, in my mind." Claire looked up at her, her face pleading. The last part she had said so quietly that Frank had to strain to hear her.

Mrs. Graham looked to Claire, "These mean an awful lot to ye?" It was said as a question but the look on Mrs. Graham's face said she knew it was a statement.

Claire closed her eyes briefly and Frank knew she was trying to hold back tears. She opened them again and took her hand off of the hands of Mrs. Graham and placed it in her lap with her other.

"Yes." She answered simply, but the pitch in her voice changed just enough to convey the deep emotion behind her reply.

Mrs. Graham looked to the pearls again, "They really are something. I've always thought there was nothing more beautiful than Scottish pearls." She looked to Claire and gave her a smile.

Claire returned the smile, and with a hint of sadness, glanced at the pearls. "I would have to agree."

"Where on earth did ye get them?" Mrs. Graham asked suddenly. She knew these kinds of jewels were hard to find these days, she couldn't imagine where she had gotten them in the 18th century.

Frank stiffened and held his breath. He already knew, but he wanted to hear her answer. He noticed Claire stiffen too, albeit it was so minimal that it was almost unnoticeable.

"Jamie," Claire began, looking at Mrs. Graham, smiling lightly and giving her a look that was meant to imply that this answer should have been obvious. Mrs. Graham smiled at her and returned her look with one of her own meant to say that she, of course, knew that it had most likely been Jamie. Frank was about to let out his breath, but Claire started to talk again.

"They belonged to his mother, Ellen." She smiled again at Mrs. Graham, a little bigger this time. Frank leaned in even closer as he was now beginning to get information that he had not previously been privy to. _A family heirloom_, he thought to himself. _His mother's name was Ellen_, he locked this information up in his mind in case he ever decided to use it.

"Och, how sweet." Mrs. Graham said in reply. Claire's smile got larger again. Mrs. Graham could see that Claire was getting a little happier talking about the necklace and she wanted to continue the conversation. Mrs. Randall rarely seemed happy these days, she should hold on to it while she could.

"When ye parted, was that when he gave them to ye?"

Claire shook her head slightly while looking down, the smile still on her lips.

"It was on our wedding night." She looked back to Mrs. Graham and Frank could see her full face again. She looked almost…giddy? Like she and Mrs. Graham were two young girls shyly talking about their first kisses.

Frank felt his mind whirl. He knew they had been married. But his mind had not allowed him to actually imagine it…until now. A flash crossed in front of his eyes, vague images of a wedding scene. Claire, standing in front of witnesses, pledging to love another man forever. _Our wedding night,_ Claire had said. More images appeared to Frank, all of them sensual and revolting. He felt sick. He swallowed down the feeling in order to concentrate on what she said next.

Claire had looked away again, towards nothing in particular. She had a faraway look in her eyes as she imagined the moment from several years ago.

"I was sitting by the fire, watching the flames rise and fall. He was in bed, behind me. He had fallen asleep after I – well, I had thought he was still asleep." Claire still looked towards the wall, deep in her own memory, a smile still on her lips as she continued. Frank's hand gripped the edge of the doorway.

"I heard him get up and start rustling through something, but I didn't turn around. I felt him standing behind me, and the next thing I knew, there was the most beautiful string of pearls I'd ever seen around my neck." Claire paused then and reached a hand up to touch her neckline, clearly imagining that moment as if she could go back to it if she tried hard enough. Frank's hand on the doorway tightened.

Mrs. Graham spoke again, breaking Claire out of her trance, "Sounds verra romantic."

Claire, spell broken, blinked and then turned back to look at her, "It was."

She paused her story just long enough for her eyes to settle back on the pearls themselves.

She continued, "He told me that they were the only thing he had left of his mother. That they were very precious to him. And that I was very precious to him."

Frank felt his lips tighten so much against each other that they were starting to feel painful. But Claire wasn't done yet.

"He was so honest and so open with me in that moment. He said that and I just wanted to gather him in my arms…so I did." She said matter-of-factly. Frank felt himself get warm with…anger? Embarrassment? Frustration? Maybe all of those.

"I was naked but I had his plaid wrapped around me. I turned to him and wrapped it around both of us without even thinking." She began to gaze off again as she spoke.

"I never had any control over my body around him. It was like there was an invisible tether that was pulling us towards each other all the time. My mind could not understand it, but it was there from the moment we met. I couldn't admit it to myself in the beginning, but it was always there."

Frank could feel the emotion building aggressively in his mind.

"We had been together twice that night already…" Claire shot a quick smile towards Mrs. Graham to convey amused guilt. Frank could feel every muscle from his jaw to his feet clenching.

"But that…that was the first time we were no longer having just sex. We were making love." Claire closed her eyes as she finished, "We stared into each other's eyes the whole time, the pearls nestled between our hearts. I remember thinking that the current I felt between us was so powerful that I would never be able to tear myself from him. I realized that the reason I could not control my body around him was because it wasn't just our bodies that were one…it was our souls."

Frank stared at her and watched as she closed her eyes and watched her lips as they formed words that pierced him. Each word struck him like a white-hot spear through his heart.

"I didn't know it at the time, but I gave my heart and soul to him. Right there, in that moment. _And I didn't get them back when we parted._"

As tears began to fall from her closed eyelids, Frank gained all of his remaining strength and dragged himself away from the door. He stumbled up the stairs and closed the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily. Frank had been so sure that Claire would come to her senses after being away from this man. He kept saying that it was just an infatuation, that she was confused. She had been dropped in another time, and he had helped her. She didn't really love Jamie.

After what he just heard, he wasn't so sure he could keep telling himself that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Short, but a sweet chapter that has Frank pondering about his child as she sleeps. Especially when she does something very peculiar...she smiles. He tries to bring it up to Claire but it doesn't go well...**

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Chapter 3: Sweet Dreams

Frank loved to watch Brianna sleep. Even as a baby, Bree was a great sleeper. She didn't wake them (much) by crying at night and almost immediately, she would sleep a good amount of time without waking up.

Frank and Claire were grateful for this wonder, but it didn't stop the parental worry that was now a permanent part of Frank. Almost every night, he would spend several hours just watching her sleep, making sure she was still alive. In the beginning, she slept in a small crib in their room. Claire would often fall asleep in the chair next to the crib, while nursing Bree, and then rocking her to sleep. But after Claire would finally get into bed, Frank would get up and sit in the chair, peering into the crib and watching the tiny baby's chest rise and fall.

As Brianna grew and began sleeping in her own room, Frank would watch her there too. He would come home after a late meeting or event and go into her room to check on her. He would pull her blanket up over her shoulder and brush her hair off of her face. Then, he would find himself just watching her sleep. Sometimes her eyes moved under her eyelids so that he knew she was dreaming. Sometimes her foot would twitch slightly and she would roll over. But the thing he loved the most, was that sometimes she would smile in her sleep. It was a subtle movement of the lips, almost unnoticeable at first. Some nights he would watch her until she smiled. It was almost as if Frank needed some kind of reassurance that she was alive and happy before he could go to bed himself.

When she was still a baby, there were a few times that Frank caught Claire also watching their child as she slept. He would come into the room and Claire would be looking down at Brianna, a small smile and wet eyes displayed on her face as she looked down at her. But as soon as she noticed Frank, she would immediately back away from Bree and turn away from him. Slowly, he realized that Claire watched Bree less and less and soon, he realized that he could not remember the last time he saw Claire watching Brianna sleep. He thought maybe that all parents grew out of that phase, but he could not.

On her 16th birthday, after the gifts were given, cake was eaten, and Brianna was off to the cinema with her friends, Frank and Claire were alone in the living room. Frank had poured them both a drink in preparation for their tradition to toast to their daughter on her birthday. Things had been prickly between the two of them, for years now, but especially today after they had an argument about Frank wanting to get Bree a car. Still, they tried to live as amicably as possible and they especially tried to put their best faces on for Brianna.

Claire sat in one of the armchairs as Frank sat in the other. They held their glasses towards each other and nodded. They drank.

"Sixteen…Christ." Claire said, almost to herself. But also to Frank. Bree was the thing they shared, the thread that held them together.

Frank exhaled, "It's hard to believe. Seems like yesterday she was crawling around on this very floor."

Claire looked to the spot in the living room where her daughter's playpen used to sit many years ago. She chuckled quietly.

"Seems like the years have flown by." She mused.

Frank nodded but added, "And sometimes they seemed to go on forever."

She caught his meaning. They've spent so long trapped in this life. Happy beyond belief having Bree but just as equally, they were unhappy.

"Do you remember when she got her first bike, for Christmas?" Claire decided to stick to their agreement made years ago: on Bree's birthday, they would come together to enjoy the daughter they had raised.

Frank's face lightened once again, "She tried to ride it in the front hall."

"And the kitchen, and the dining room," Claire added. They looked to each other and laughed at the memory of a simpler time.

Frank continued the memory, "She was so disappointed that we didn't get her a bunny…but then forgot all about it after seeing the bike."

Still smiling, Claire nodded, "Ah yes. The bunny phase!" She laughed, then continued. "Even when she was a baby, she loved nothing more than that stuffed rabbit. I tried to clean it a time or two, but she wouldn't let it go. Not even in her sleep."

Frank nodded in agreement and took a drink of his whiskey. "I remember."

After a moment of silence, Frank spoke again.

"I used to watch her sleep. Night after night for years, I don't even know why." Frank recalled. "I suppose I wanted to make sure she was well. And then, I just couldn't stop."

Claire, sipping her drink, "I know what you mean."

"She was so peaceful, asleep. She never moved around much, always looked safe and at ease." He continued. "Sometimes she would smile as she slept, it was the most curious thing." Frank added, with a small chuckle.

Claire immediately took another long gulp and finished her drink, then stared down into the bottom of the empty glass. She answered in a small voice, "Yes, I know."

She could feel that familiar pang deep inside her chest. She's lived with it for so long that sometimes she could forget it was there. But then something would happen…Brianna would make a recognizable facial expression, or she'd hear a man with a Scottish accent. Then the pang would tug at her more insistently, reminding her that the feeling would always be there. It was a part of her now.

Frank glanced towards her after hearing an almost painful tone to her voice.

He remarked, "Do you? It took me awhile before I ever noticed it myself. And you tired of watching her sleep long before I did. Though, you've always been more observant than me, I suppose." Frank wondered aloud. Claire had not moved her eyes from her lap and he was beginning to feel an awkward silence wash over the room.

Again, long moments of silence filled the air. Frank, unsure what else to do, spoke again. "Such an odd behavior, really. Smiling in your sleep. Of course, I'd have no notion if that is a common practice, having not studied many people as they slept." Frank rambled on. "Perhaps if one was having a pleasant dream, though Bree did it almost every night if I recall. Almost like a habit that she could not help. So strange, wouldn't you say? I mean, can you recall ever knowing of anyone else who smiles in their sleep every night?"

Frank looked to Claire. He hoped that posing a direct question to her would help get the conversation going again.

"Yes." Claire answered quickly and looked away, into the flames of the fire that burned lowly in the room. Frank paused. It took him just a moment before realizing what she had said. She said yes, as in, _yes I did know someone who always smiled in their sleep._

Frank now looked into his own glass, "I see." He didn't know what else to say. He could barely think.

Claire stood abruptly and put her glass down onto the table, slightly more harshly than usual. She turned and faced the fireplace with her arms crossed in front of her chest, guarding her heart. What was left of her heart, that is.

"I did not _tire_ of watching my daughter sleep." She spoke, clearly bristled by what he had commented moments before. "I…_couldn't _watch her sleep." She was facing away from him still, but that didn't stop Frank from hearing the pain in her voice.

He sat quietly for a moment. Then he finished his drink and poured another. It had been years since he had thought of Jamie Fraser. A long time ago, Frank would have pushed Claire. Made her talk about it more. But he had long ago learned his lesson: the more he knew about James Fraser, the more painful it was.

Now, one of his favorite characteristics of his daughter was intertwined with that man. He rested his head into his palms.


	4. Chapter 4

**This was the first chapter of this story that I wrote. The idea just came to me randomly and I wrote it quickly and then forgot about it. Then one day I realized that there were more fascinating stories to tell about the awkwardness that must have ensued between Frank and Claire when she returned. **

**Claire went through an insane amount of trauma and hardships while she was away. Not only that, but she also found love. A love that was so much deeper and more powerful than she ever thought existed. All of that...that changed her. Immensely. So I wanted to explore maybe a moment where Frank first realized how much she had changed. So that is how this chapter came to be!**

**Two snippets of Claire sleeping and how they reflect the different person that she is now. And Frank's reaction to them. **

**(The second half of the story borders on a more mature rating but there's nothing explicit.)**

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Chapter 4: Tossing and Turning and Yearning

It was the first night that they were sleeping in the same bed since Claire had returned. When she first came back, she seemed so overwhelmed and confused, it seemed best for them to occupy separate rooms. At least until they had talked about everything in further detail. This morning, Frank had agreed to take Claire, and her unborn child, and make a future, together.

Claire agreed to forget the past and live, again, as husband and wife. He could see her eyes fill with tears at the mere thought of moving on from _him_. Frank couldn't even think his name. Nevertheless, he did not make her remove her ring…she would on her own, in time. He was sure of that. He knew that once she spent time with him again, Claire would remember how much she loved him and wants to be with him.

So here they were. Claire had gotten into bed on one side, her back to the empty side. It occurred to Frank that she was on the side that he usually slept on and wondered when she started sleeping on the other side of the bed. His mind briefly flashed to a vision of her in a bed, next to a man. Though he knew very little about what Jamie Fraser looked like, his mind conjured up something anyway, just to torture him.

_Well, this is fine_, he thought to himself. Things are going to be different, he knew that. He slid into bed, pondering how long it would take him to get used to his new spot.

Claire rustled barely, and then began to breathe deeply again. It had been a tiring few days for her since returning, which resulted in the great ability to sleep for a long time and sleep deeply. Frank lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how long it would be until it was appropriate to touch his wife again. He wanted to curl up behind her and wrap his arm around her… he worried that she wasn't ready for that.

After a while, his eyelids began to get heavy and he was just about to drift into sleep when Claire's movements jolted him back to reality. She was shifting, quite aggressively, rolling onto her back and then onto her side once again. Frank paused, unsure if she was done settling. Then he heard a small noise. A very quiet noise, resembling a whimper. He turned to look at Claire's back. She did it again. He could see that her shoulders were slightly hunched and her arms were pulled into her body close. She seemed to be shrinking into herself as much as she could.

He was just about to say something when she mumbled, "No…stop." Frank shifted closer, trying to make sure he was hearing exactly what she was saying. Her head shifted and he could see she was frowning and still making the small whimpering noises. She was scared. _A bad dream_, Frank concluded happily. This would give him the perfect excuse to comfort her.

Frank scooted closer to her again and reached out a hand to touch her hair. Upon contact, Claire's arm flung up and slapped his hand away and she began to thrash, throwing her head back and forth and holding her arms out in defense, her hands curled into tiny fists.

"Don't touch me! Get your hands off me!" She cried out in her sleep. Frank, taken aback at first, retreated his hands but began to say her name, "Claire, darling, it's just a dream," he tried to reach to her again, "it's alright, I'm here."

Claire continued to push him away, her mind locked on whoever was attacking her in her dream. She continued to cry out her protests. Frank was just about to wrap her in his arms and try to wake her… and then she said it.

"Get away from me! Stop…** Jamie! **Help me! Jamie, where are you?!" She cried out in distress.

Frank released her quickly, as if she had suddenly turned to fire and burned him. She was afraid, and she didn't want him. She wanted Jamie.

It dawned on Frank that for the past few years, anytime Claire had been afraid or worried,_ Jamie_ had been the one to comfort her. Frank imagined large arms wrapping around a crying Claire, her face pushing into a man's chest and her hands grasping onto a shirt. His mind filled with emotion as this picture took form in his mind. He grabbed her arms with force and shook her, hard.

"CLAIRE! Claire! It's a dream! WAKE UP!"

Claire gasped and opened her eyes, her entire body freezing. She was breathing shallow and her eyes looked around wildly. Frank looked down at her, "You were having a bad dream…it's alright. You're safe."

Claire's eyes, after establishing that she was in fact in a safe place again, settled onto Frank's. She breathed out, "Oh".

Frank released her arms as she began to relax again. She looked slightly embarrassed.

"Sorry…" she said, glancing to him and then looking away, beginning to turn back onto her side, away from him. "That, um, that happens sometimes."

Frank looked to her and asked, "It seemed as though you were dreaming someone was attacking you?"

Claire looked back over her shoulder to Frank and then back away again.

"Nothing…it's nothing."

Frank raised an eyebrow at the back of her head, "It didn't seem like nothing. You were very upset." She shook her head slightly and kept her head turned away from him.

"Really, Frank, don't worry about it. It's not a big deal."

"It is a big deal, Claire. You were shouting and fighting against me. You need to talk about it, whatever it is—" he stopped talking mid-sentence as Claire sighed heavily and whipped her head around quickly to look at him.

"A lot of things have happened over the past couple of years, Frank! And you specifically made me promise **not** to talk about those things. You have no idea what I have been through, or the things that have happened to me." Her voice cracking as she spoke, "I am not the same person that I was before and there are some things about me now that you will never understand. I have dreams sometimes, terrible dreams. Let's just leave it at that!" Claire huffed a final breath of frustration and turned back onto her side, facing away from Frank once again.

Frank didn't know how to respond. Claire was right, things about her had changed, and he might never know why. He rolled onto his side as well to face the wall. He hoped her dreams didn't come very often.

_**One year later **_

Frank dropped his keys into the little dish in the front hall and set his briefcase down by the coat closet. He heard no sound when he came in the door, so he ascertained that his wife and baby were both asleep upstairs.

An hour later, after some reading and some whiskey, he made his way upstairs. After checking on the baby, he entered the bedroom, opening and closing the door as quietly as possible. Sensing movement coming from the pile on the bed he assumed was his wife, he breathed a sigh of frustration. He had not meant to wake her. Things had been tough between them lately. He really wanted to avoid a conversation that might end in another argument.

After being still for a moment, he realized that Claire was not rousing from sleep after all. The blanket covered her from stomach to feet, leaving her silk tank top covered chest, exposed. One arm was underneath the covers and she was moving slowly and steadily. _Certainly she is not…_ Frank thought to himself. He took two steps closer to confirm.

He squinted his eyes to get a better look. The room itself was dark but slight rays of moonlight through the window washed over Claire's body. Frank could see that her chest and neck were flushed. Her head was pressing into the pillow beneath her. Her eyes were closed tightly, mouth parted just a bit. Her right hand was somewhere beneath the covers…Frank could guess where.

Her left hand was laid next to her and Frank could see that she was tightly gripping the sheet. Her hips moved beneath the fabric. Frank stood frozen, not wanting to wake her, but also not able to look away.

She began to let out small noises as her movements began to quicken. She pressed her head back again, stretching her long neck so that the moonlight illuminated the muscles in her throat. Her chest was heaving and the skin above her breasts was freckled with red. Her mouth opened wider and she was gasping slightly intermixed with quiet moans. She hastened her movements, and her back arched off of the bed slightly.

Frank, who had been trying to become intimate with Claire again, was completely transfixed by what he was watching. The way her lips formed lines to accompany her moans, the way her knuckles were turning white as she gripped the bedsheets, the way her chest rose as she arched her back and he could see the outline of her hard nipples through the flimsy silk fabric. He gulped as he watched her.

She moved without abandon now, her hips pumping up and down and her back arching again. One leg popped out from the blankets at the bottom of the bed and Frank's eyes followed her long, lean, calf down to her toes right as they began to curl. He quickly looked back up and watched her release coming. She let go of the bed and slapped the covers next to her, then immediately gripped the sheets again, trying to get to her release. She arched wildly and let out a series of gasping moans. Frank felt his body get hot and he held his breath as she ascended into oblivion.

"_**Jamieeeeee**_…oh god yes!" Claire finally cried out right as she hit her peak.

Frank's face turned white. His fists clenched and his jaw tightened. _A whole bloody year later and she's still dreaming about that fucking Scot_, his mind shouted in a frenzy of anger. He stood there another moment, watching the face of his wife trying to come down from her point of ecstasy. Her chest went up and down and she tried to gain even breaths, letting out small noises of satisfaction. He breathed deeper, his mind full of rage.

Before she could wake from her satisfied slumber, he turned and went back downstairs. It wasn't too late for another drink, he thought to himself, or two.


	5. Chapter 5

**Might possibly be my favorite chapter of this story. **

**Note that this chapter I wrote based on a certain event that happens in the books. Don't worry, it's not a shattering spoiler, but basically Claire and Jamie decide to carve the other person's first initial into their hands right before Claire goes back through the stones.**

**I loved this part of the book so much and I'm really sad they have not included it yet in the show. (The cast and RDM have said in interviews that they have shot the scene several times but have not added it yet..I'm hoping they will soon!)**

**I hope you enjoy the last chapter of this story - it was an absolute joy to write! Please let me know what you think! Or if you have any thoughts on what my next OL fic should be (;  
**

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Chapter 5: Past Scars Create Present Pain

The first time Frank noticed it, it wasn't until Claire had been back for several weeks. Most of her first few days back, Frank had kept a respectable distance. She was very closed off, seeming as though she was trying to draw herself inward, mentally but also physically. Her shoulders seemed to be permanently curled forward, her eyes were always cast down or gazed off in the distance, and her hands were always clasped tightly together in her lap.

Frank had always loved her hands. They were soft as silk and strong as a sword. A nurse's hands, that's what they were. They had a gentle and steady touch. He had memorized the lines on them long ago, and even after all this time, he could still picture them perfectly in his mind. That's why it came as a shock to him when one day he was handing her a cup of tea, he noticed something that he didn't recognize. As she reached for the cup, he caught the briefest of glances at something on her palm before it disappeared as her hand closed around the handle of the delicate dish.

At the time, he had let it go. It was so brief a moment, he almost wasn't sure if he even saw anything. It could have been a trick of light, he thought to himself. He tried to think if he had noticed anything before that moment, and that's when he began pondering about just how physically closed off Claire had been since returning. They had even begun sharing a bed again, but after a few nightmare incidents, they had both been very adamant about keeping to their own respective sides. He realized that this had been the first time he had even seen the inside of her hands since she came back.

The second time he saw it, they were on the plane to Boston. She was in the seat next to him, in the window. They had flown together before but that had been many years ago. The last time, she had insisted on having the aisle seat.

"_I don't want to be in the window, watching the clouds surround me. I'd feel as though I would stare out that window and suddenly be transported to some other world, unable to know what was reality and what was a dream..." _That's what she had said when they boarded their last plane together.

Now, Claire entered their row first and sat in the window, her eyes never leaving the clouds for the entire trip.

As she sat, Frank watched her nervously. He spoke to her only a few times, asking if she wanted a snack or a drink. She simply shook her head, her eyes tracing the clouds outside the window.

He looked down and watched as she clasped her hands together in her lap. He watched as one hand ran its fingers along the other hand, pressing into the skin as they did. They were laying one hand on top of the other, with the top hand palm up. The thumb of the bottom hand was wrapped around and pressing into the palm of the top hand. That's when he saw it again...that flash of a line he had thought he had seen a week ago. As her thumb rubbed over the skin at the bottom of her other thumb and up towards the top of the palm, Frank saw an odd shape. It seemed to be embedded in the skin itself. _A scar_. Her thumb continued its path, continuously passing over the scar.

Frank stared at it. It wasn't red so it wasn't brand new. But it was pink and looked slightly scabbed, so it wasn't very old either.

It wasn't a huge surprise that she should have a scar. He was sure that living in the 18th century had not been easy living. But it was such an odd shape, he couldn't fathom how she possibly could have gotten it. It wasn't a straight line, it wasn't even slightly curved. It was curved very distinctly.

_Was it a horseshoe? _Frank thought to himself, trying to speculate on a good way to describe the shape. _No, _Frank concluded, it was not a horseshoe. One half of the curve was too short for a horseshoe. Before Frank could ponder this further, Claire's hands shifted and the hand that had just been palm up turned upside down. Her left hand continued to use its fingers to probe at the right, but now her fingers worked gingerly to touch the silver ring on her fourth finger.

Any thoughts Frank was having about the scar dissipated as he watched her fingers stroke the ring back and forth in a loving manner. She didn't even know she was doing it, that's what made it so painful for Frank. It was just a habit, something that her body did subconsciously.

When Frank finally got the answer to the scar's origin, it was almost a month later. Of course, he had begun to notice it more and more after the plane ride. He never asked about it though. Why, he wasn't sure. For awhile, it didn't even occur to him to say anything about it. It was just a scar, people get them randomly all the time. At least that's what he told himself, as he saw her stroking it absentmindedly for the thousandth time.

After a while, he stopped thinking about it so much. His mind had begun to accept it as just another part of this new Claire. It healed more and was no longer scabbed over, just a pink line that would one day fade to a white whisper.

Things with Claire got slowly easier, as they settled into their new house together. Today marked one month that they had moved to Boston and Claire was making a special dinner. She seemed to be making strides to accepting their new life together and Frank was very pleased to see it.

They sat and ate in amicable silence.

Frank noticed that while he was almost done, Claire had barely touched her food.

"Not feeling well?" Frank reached for her hand that rested on the edge of the table and she pulled it away but tried to disguise the reaction by picking up her knife. She gave him a fake smile.

"I'm fine, darling." She cut a piece of meat and plopped it in her mouth, looking to him as if to say, _"See?"_

Frank looked at her, seeing through her act.

"Claire, give me your hand." Claire hesitated for a moment and Frank added, "Please."

She acquiesced and laid her hand, palm up, on the table between them. Frank enclosed the hand with both of his.

He spoke gently, as though Claire was a small, frightened, deer that could run off at any moment.

"Darling, I know that this is a big change. Boston is certainly very different from what we are used to." He smiled at her and she met him with a timid smile of her own.

"But, I think it's going to be a good change for us. A new chapter." He stroked her hand with his fingers. Her hand was stiff beneath his but she didn't pull away.

He looked down at their hands as he ran his fingers across her palm.

"Remember how I said I used to draw the lines of your hand from memory?" He asked her and she nodded, looking up at him. He took his gaze to her eyes for his question but then returned them to her hand.

"I want to be able to know you like that again." He said as he brought his eyes to the oddly shaped scar at the base of her thumb. The one he could never place the shape of. From this angle across the table, it looked like a candy cane.

"All the lines of your body…even the new ones." He said as he took his finger and touched the scar.

As soon as his finger touched her scar, Claire withdrew her hand with a speed so violent that she knocked the knife sticking out from her plate onto the floor. Neither of them even looked down to the knife. Claire's eyes looked almost as surprised by her actions as Frank's did.

Startled by her aggressive reaction, Frank took a breath. "Claire, I-I'm sorry, I…" He stumbled over his words, unsure what he did. Therefore, he was unsure how to apologize for it.

They sat in silence. An awkward silence that left the air heavy with tension.

Claire suddenly seemed to come to her senses and she began to gather the dishes.

Frank tried again, "Wait, stop. We can do that later." He laid his hands over the dishes but she grabbed them anyway and took them over to the sink.

"Claire, it's-it's alright. It's just a scar, everyone has a scar or two. There's nothing to be embarrassed ab –." Frank tried again, but didn't finish his sentence as Claire dumped the dishes into the sink with a loud crash.

"I'm not embarrassed," She said, sounding cross. She walked back towards him at the table but turned in order to walk past him and out the doorway as she spoke, "I just don't want you touching it, Frank!" By the tone in her voice, Frank could tell she was getting upset. This confused him more.

Frank grabbed her wrist as she tried to walk by him, "What are you-what's the big deal?" Frank asked, trying to understand. With his grip on her wrist, he turned her hand over so he could look at the scar again. Now, with her standing and him sitting, it was right in front of his face. Claire's arm pulled as she tried to stop him from examining it further.

Frank simply tightened his grip on her wrist and looked closer at it. That's when it finally dawned on him. _It wasn't a candy cane, he was looking at it upside down… it was a J. _

He paused, his grip still on her wrist, but she wasn't struggling anymore. Frank stared at the scar, the shape so obvious to him now.

_J…j. _

_J, j, j, it's a J._

The letter repeated in circles in his mind.

_**J for Jamie**, _he thought to himself.

"Frank…"

It wasn't until Claire said his name that he realized he had mumbled "_J for Jamie_" out loud.

He broke his gaze from the offending letter and looked up at her. She was looking directly into his eyes. Her eyes were on fire as they held pain, anger, and sadness all at once. He was sure that his were probably reflecting the same thing. He released her arm.

She didn't leave but brought her hands to each other in front of her stomach. Her left hand held the hand in question as if to comfort it after being subjected to Frank's gaze.

Claire, realizing that Frank was obviously very hurt by this discovery, knew that she should try and comfort him. Not knowing how to do that though, she simply sat down at the table once again. She had wanted to walk away from the moment, but this was her life now. She had to try and make it work.

Frank, after allowing the initial shock to wear off, was now quickly wiping a few tears that had escaped his eyes and fallen down his cheeks. He looked at her, expecting her to say something.

She saw this expectation and said the only thing she could think of, "I'm sorry."

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" He replied bitterly.

Claire shook her head slightly, "I don't know what you want me to say, Frank."

Frank thought about this for a moment and then asked something he knew he shouldn't, "Why?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. In another life, he would have known exactly what she meant by this. But that is not the husband and wife that they were anymore. So Claire clarified her questioning brow, "Why didn't I show you sooner?"

"Why did you do it?" Frank countered with the question he cared more about. He could imagine all the excuses she could give about not telling him about it. But he couldn't imagine why she would literally carve into herself. It seemed so crude, so barbaric, so unlike the Claire he knew.

Claire hesitated. She really did want – no, need – this to work. Honesty was so important in her relationship with Jamie and as a result, honesty still felt really important to her. But she didn't want to hurt Frank.

When he could see her hesitation, Frank asked again, "Why did you do it?"

He was pressuring her to answer. Claire took a breath in, then a breath out. After another breath, she answered him.

"I wanted to be able to look back and know that everything was real."

It was just vague enough that Claire thought it would be enough to squash Frank's curiosity. She was wrong.

"Cut the bullshit, Claire…" Frank began, getting frustrated at Claire's evasiveness. While Claire was trying to spare his feelings, Frank only saw it as her unwillingness to open up to him.

Claire, clearly seeing that Frank was now baiting her, got frustrated herself. Frank was pushing her to share things that she didn't want to share. Eventually, he was going to push her too far.

She huffed, "It is **not** bullshit! But you're asking me to share things that you have told me continuously that I am not allowed to talk about! I don't know what you want from me." Claire's voice had risen slightly with her frustration.

"If I ask you a direct question, I would like to hear a direct answer." He shot back.

"Oh, so I'm allowed to talk about it as long as YOU are the one who wants to talk about it? Is that it?" Claire didn't give him a chance to answer before she continued, "**FINE**. You want to know why? Because I knew that when I went through those stones, I would never see him ever again."

Claire's voice began to crack as she started to get emotional. But she continued anyway, tears forming and starting to fall.

"And I wanted to have something that connected the two of us together, _permanently_." She was letting the words spill out. "So I grabbed his dagger and made him mark me as_ his_. And then I reciprocated."

Claire paused for a moment to let that truly sink into Frank's mind.

"_Are you happy now?!_" She cried bitterly. "You wanted to know and now you do!"

Frank had heard enough. He stood abruptly from his chair and left the room without a word as soon as Claire finished. She heard the front door bang and she collapsed onto her arms on the table, crying.

**/ the end /**

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**Thank you for reading! **

**I am such a Frank hater that I couldn't believe that my first OL fic was Frank-centric. But I have always found this period in the story to be so interesting. How could they possibly have stuck to that arrangement of never discussing Claire's past? So obviously I wrote a story where they don't exactly keep their bargain...at least in the beginning. hehe. **

**Hope you enjoyed, let me know! See you next time, fic lovers. **


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